


Survival.

by Zee_Seal



Category: Fantrolls Fandom, Homestuck, Homestuck Fantroll, fantroll - Fandom
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 06:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18543949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zee_Seal/pseuds/Zee_Seal
Summary: Inside of the mind of one Zaekha Mirose. A Mutant on the run.





	Survival.

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly a vent piece.

Anger.

A deep, gnawing anger that pooled in the pit of your gut, and stayed there.

That's all you ever felt. It clawed at you from the inside out. Whispered inside of your mind and kept you captive with it's fire. It was a sweet addiction for a long time, that venomous temperament that seemed to seep into your whole being. It was what kept you alive, it was drove you. It was what kept you going, day and night. The spite, the hatred, the anger.

It was your fuel. It's what kept you moving, kept you going. It's what made you say "Fuck you" to the world, and dig your heels in, refusing to budge towards the idea of despair. You absolutely refused to allow yourself to sink into a depressive spiral. You knew your life was hopeless, but you weren't going to cry about it. 

As much as you wanted to die, each and every day, a stubborn part of you refused to give up so easily, and refused to go out with out a whimper. If this world wanted to stomp you out, it'd get one helluva fight from you before you went down. It was an odd internal struggle. Simply wishing to give up, to finally get some peaceful rest. 

To lay your head down, and simply never return to the world of the living. Yet, having the passion, and the fire, raging within you to force yourself up every night, and keep on trekking through this god forsaken world. To make it as long as you possibly could before the Fate's decided your time was up.

It'd be a smack in the face of those who ran this shit-show. A middle finger to them simply by existing for this long. It gave you a sick, twisted, sense of fucked up joy, knowing your very life was going against the status quo. It brought a warped, almost smug, grin to your face when you thought about it. Or as close as anything to "Joy" as you could ever say you felt.   
You didn't feel a lot of things.

Maybe that's why you never got attached to anyone. Maybe that's why, despite the raging furnace of passionate hatred inside of you, you were cold. Empty. Lifeless. Simply existing but not feeling anything more. You felt nothing else for anyone around you. You had never known what love felt like. Your Lusus saw you as a means to keep her fed when you were growing up. 

She didn't give a fuck about you unless you were being a "good" charge. Love, affection, empathy, these were foreign things to you. Concepts you couldn't wrap your head around. You knew nothing good ever came without some kind of price, and to repay everything, lest a kind act was held over your head in the future, to twist your arm, and get you to do something against your will.

Trust no one, trust no good deed, trust nothing that was "to good to be true" and especially, do not trust anyone who tried to force themselves into your life. Tried to get to know you, to get past the walls you had so meticulously constructed to protect yourself. Nothing was worth the pain of someone getting close. No one was worth the pain of loss, or being forced to care about someone else's well being besides your own. 

You despised yourself, and your very existence. There was nothing to praise about your life. You were a fuck up. A fluke. You shouldn't have existed in the first place, and your death was imminent no matter what you did. Best to just stay by yourself in the long run. No need to burden someone with the potential of dying because they were helping some mutated freak. 

Or potentially become the target of harm, or worse, themselves should they be found aiding a mutant. Or hurt them because you were convinced you couldn't feel anything besides hatred, anger and a deep, lonely sorrow.

Yet despite this, you did sometimes wish to have someone, anyone, to fall back on, to be with in some way. You realized, deep down, somewhere, you were lonely in this life of yours. You were tired of everything in your life being fleeting. Being unable to take root and stay somewhere. You had no one, you had nothing, and despite this being the logical choice, made you feel more hollow, and distant from everything else.

You much rather the intense, uncontrollable anger, to feeling alone, to feeling insignificant, if you were being truly honest with yourself. It was easier to manage, and to understand. Anger negated the numb existence, made you feel alive, if only fleetingly. 

It was just another way to survive.


End file.
